


The End Of Everything

by dirtylittlesecret



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Grahpic Drug Abuse, Hinted Alcoholism, M/M, Non-Graphic Sex, Overdose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 11:04:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtylittlesecret/pseuds/dirtylittlesecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard has a drug problem. Everyone pays the price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> /Wrote this 2 years ago for English Class, it's so awful I'm sorry.

Mikey tutted and let out an exasperated sigh as he picked up another beer bottle, sniffing the contents delicately, the smell still jumped down his throat, causing him to gag slightly. Disgusted, he skillfully threw the bottle into the nearest bin, still frowning. He continued his quiet walk down the tour bus, low and oh-so-innocent snores greeted him as he neared the bunks, his bandmates still resting, peacefully oblivious to the rush going through his mind.  
He was welcomed with the sight of his older brother passed out, leaning out of his bunk backwards, his gdirty, greasy long black hair nearly touching the ground, his over-theatrical stage make-up mostly wiped off half-heartedly, his glittering stage-military costume swapped for dull and gray track-suit bottoms, and a loose sweat-ridden navy hoodie. Calloused fingers clutching another empty beer bottle pathetically, a small see-through pocket of something clearly not sherbert slipping out of his hoodie front pockets, nearly falling feebly to the ground. Inwardly, Mikey sighed.  
"Dammnit, Gerard.." He murmured, crouching down, giving the other's shoulders a soft shove. He was still out like a drunk, high-as-a-kite lightbulb.  
"Everything's falling apart, so of course you'd go out and drink.." He whispered at the sleeping man, fury evident in his face, hatred seeping into his words.  
Frustrated at his lack of reaction, and how innocent the elder brother looked while sleeping, nothing like the energetic, sometimes even carefree individual he grew up with.  
"I know Elena died, and Bob's just..Left. But please, don't leave me to deal with it alone. You're supposed to look after me! Not the other way around. Older, my ass..It's like your five!" He pleaded with the unconscious man. Sighing, downcast with no obvious response, he stood up, moving to exit the bunk-room.  
"M-Mikey?" Came a near-silent groan. Nonetheless, Mikey turned, facing the now-awake man with a mask of indifference painted on to hide his slowly crumbling emotions.  
"Yes, Gerard?" The half-awake man flinched at Mikey's cynical and dead tone. A pitiful whimper leaving his mouth, near by accident.  
"I-I'm sorry.." He mumbled, looking down, desperately trying to avoid Mikey's piercing stare. The apathetic look across the younger man's face, slipping, despair and and grief flashing across it momentarily, before unfeeling expression returned, but a cold, empty look still in his eyes.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cold Turkey.

"It's not like I expected anything else, to be honest, Gerard. You always seek comfort from alcohol and drugs." Mikey snapped, anger slipping into his tone. Gerard flinched, biting his lip to keep back the inevitable tears.  
Mikey felt lightly guilty wince, then remembered how he stumbled in drunk not two hours ago, clutching to Ray and Frank's shoulders. Vomit, sweat and drinks from whatever bar he'd just come from mixed on his vest and - somehow- trousers. The fury returned effortlessly, taking over his apathetic look once again, rage bubbling slowly inside him, hands clenching at his side.  
Gerard refused to make eye-contact, still. Somehow the dirty ground on the tour bus seemed more appealing than his brother's icy glare.  
"You don't get it Mikes.." He used the other's childhood nickname, hoping to soothe the hatred a little. It proved useless as Mikey advanced slowly, even his footsteps seemed to carry intensity and an inner-turbulence, emotions mixing together inside him, anger, hatred, loathing, yet love, and concern for his brother's downward spiral. He wanted to punch him for being so stupid, and taking so many dangerous drugs, but then hug him and tell him it'd be okay in the end. He remained silent as he reached his older brother, dropping down onto his knees once again as his brother sat up, his tall figure meaning even though he was on the floor, he was face-to-face with Gerard who dragged his gaze away from the grubby floor, looking -finally- into his brother's eyes, seeing a fight inside his eyes, emotions flitting across quickly, changing frequently. Finally, Mikey spoke, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples.  
"I..I get that, you need help, Gerard." He murmured, frowning as he rubbed his temples. Gerard took his eyes closed as an opportunity to grab the baggie that slipped out of his pocket as he sat up, clutching the white dust inside it as if it was gold, paranoid that it would just disappear from his grip, and his addiction would be left snarling for more. He hated this.  
"I do Mikey..But I just..Can't stop.." He trailed off miserably, shoving the baggie in his pocket for later. "It's so much more worse than you think." Mikey's eyes flew open at the sound of the bag crinkling and Gerard's words.  
"Stop treating me like I'm some fucking kid! Stop acting like I don't know you're addicted to cocaine and not fucking fair dust or something! And I swear to God, Gerard if you fucking snort any of that, you're dead to me." He emphasized the last few words by reaching into Gerard's hoodie pockets and pulling out the packet quicker than Gerard could murmur 'Think Happy Thoughts.'. His eyes flew open for another reason than Mikey's. Fear. Anxiety. He shook lightly.  
"I need that! You can't just expect me to quit fucking cold-turkey!" He reached out feebly for the packet, beaten by Mikey standing up harshly, walking over to the bus toilet as he spoke.  
"You don't need it, and you can quit, Gerard. Consider this the starting push." He opened the baggie and poured the contents down the toilet as Gerard scrambled up and ran over to him, pathetically clutching the toilet bowl as he saw his power going down the drain.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shame.

He continued to stare into the toilet bowl long after the powder had been flushed away, hoping somehow that he just dreamed that, that he just lapsed mentally. That he could just reach into his pocket, and a little baggie containing his addiction's cure would be there, not just wallowing emptiness. A small sob emitted from the man, his knuckles turned white as he clutched the bowl, shoulders shaking as more small sobs tumbled from his open mouth. Mikey stood awkwardly, unsure if Gerard would hit him if he attempted to comfort his brother, he shuffled on his feet, knees knocking together.  
Finally, gathering confidence from unknown place, he stooped down, placing a comforting hand on his brother's back, rubbing circles as he murmured "Hush, Gee, it'll be okay." over and over again, before evolving him in a tight hug, feeling him shaking all over as Gerard cried into his brother's shoulder loudly now.  
As the sobbing slowly subsided, Gerard just sniffled weakly, before letting go of Mikey, slumping back against the toilet in defeat, wondering slowly where he could get his fix now. He'd have to wait til they went to their next venue to play, go to the dodgy part of town and find someone who-  
"Do..Do you think you could stop now?" Mikey asked weakly, looking at his brother, emotion showing in his deep, hazel eyes, empathy and hurt. Gerard hating lying to his brother.  
"Y-Yes, Mikes. I'll try." He lied hollowly, his being feeling empty without some sort of drug pumping through his veins, his lie blatant and hanging in the air, tension thick. Mikey could easily tell he lied, but was unsure if he should call Gerard on it. Maybe it was as bad as it seemed, and Gerard really couldn't cope..Life without being high on something. He left the lie, and gave his brother a raw smile, full of emotion, but it was unconvincing at the same time, like he was trying to convey his disappointment in his brother. Like Mikey accepted the lie, Gerard accepted the mock smile.  
"Thank you G." His brother hugged him, unsure, Gerard timidly kept his arms at his sides, unsure of why Mikey was thanking him for lying. Mikey frowned into his shoulder, before getting up and brushing off his pristine jacket, which contrasted dramatically to Gerard's now tear/vomit/sweat/drink stained hoodie, he brushed it as if he was trying to brush off the failure of his brother.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lies.

Stepping out of the bus toilets, and making his way slowly to the front of the bus, Mikey left his brother crumpled on the floor, one arm still clutching the toilet-bowl half-heartedly, breathing harsh, shoulders sagging. He made himself a pot of coffee, trying to wipe Gerard from his mind and focus on tonight's show. The steady rumble of the bus as moved from state-to-state. Anything but his poor drug-addled brother in the tour-bus bathroom. It failed to work, obviously. Gerard continued to shake as half-formed plans rushed through his mind. He needed drugs. He needed something now. Something to just-. Bunk. His bunk. Gerard grabbed onto the sink and slowly pulled himself up, coughing deeply, feeling like he was hacking up a lung and trying hardly not to collapse again, or stumble. With that small success, he pulled himself out of the bathroom, dragging his feet towards the bunks near the back-end of the bus.  
Finally collapsing in front of his bunk, panting deeply, as if he'd ran a marathon to get to the grubby bed, his hands fumbled with his pillow - specifically his pillow case, reaching inside and pulling out a near-identical bag to the one Mikey had drained of its wonderful and euphoric contents earlier, if not slightly smaller, with less powder.  
Enough to do 4 thin lines. Enough for now. It should get him through tonight's show until he can go out and buy more. Getting out a hardback book, he poured a little of the white powder out carefully, arranging it into a messy line before pressing the zip-lock together on the baggie, closing it, and tucking it safely back inside his pillow case. Rummaging through his pockets he brought out his wallet. Taking out a $20 bill, and his credit card, he shakily straightened out the lines with his credit card before tucking it back in his wallet, and rolling the $20 bill up and leaning down. He slowly brought the bill up to his nose, before place the other end at the start of the first line of cocaine. Sniffing firmly, he dragged the rolled-up bill up the line, snorting one line quickly. His shaking dramatically declined, left him shivering only as if it was cold. He let out a deep, throaty cough, everything suddenly crystal-sharp, and clear. Gerard smiled momentarily before ducking his head down again and snorting up the other line with much more ease than the first. Pushing the book under his dirty clothes, and tucking the $20 back in his pocket, he coughed slightly into the back of his hand, before stumbling towards the front of the bus, giggling senselessly and rubbing at his nose. As he entered the lounge/kitchen-area of the bus, he looked around with wide-eyes, having forgotten how wonderful everything looks when you're high. He wanted coffee, and lots of it. He sniffed delicately, picking up the smell of fresh coffee, he looked around wildly again, senses on red alert, everything sharp and in-focus. Tuned in. Honed. Pointed. Nimb-Anyway. Coffee..Need it..He looked around again, eyes slowly settling on a fast-asleep Mikeyway, curled up on the sofa, almost kitten-like. A cooling mug of coffee sat on the ground beside the sofa, lonely.

Gerard ducked down, and grabbed the mug, almost predatory, like an eagle swooping down and mercilessly snagging a helpless little rabbit. A dark, almost evil-tint in Gerard's dark, striking hazel eyes. Almost as if he were a bird of prey. High off their ass.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex.

Taking a sip from the lukewarm coffee, he grinned, jumping from foot-to-foot, still slightly careful not to spill any of his precious liquid gold. Cocaine might of been his most dominant addiction, but he was still definitely a major caffeine addict. He hummed appreciatively as he felt the coffee slide down the back of his throat easily, the taste over-taking his mouth momentarily, the cocaine making even the simple taste of coffee seem a thousand times more intense.  
It felt like adrenaline was pumping through his veins, all he wanted to do was run, sprint, jump, anything to burn off all this energy. His eyes darted back down to the innocently-sleeping Mikey. MikeyMikeyMikey. He'd help Gerard burn off all the excess energy. He was a total fitness freak.  
Taking large steps, Gerard approached Mikey silently, leaving his coffee mug on the counter then to cool off completely, before gripping the edge of the sofa, and leaning in quite closely.  
"Mikeyfuckin'WAY!" He screamed as he jumped up, onto his brother, nearly crushing the now well-alert man's bones.  
Mikey let out a little shriek, only alert enough to process the fact someone had screamed his name and jumped on him, not able to tell who it was yet as tiredness still had a small grip on his body. Rubbing furiously at his eyes, he looked up. Whoever the Hell dared to wake him up was gonna fuckin pa-. Goddamnit.  
"Whataya want Gee?" He sighed, twisting his body loose from under Gerard's, coughing slightly as he stretched.  
"I'msofuckin'hyperrightnow! Lets go for a fuckin' RUN!" Gerard jumped up from the sofa, landing on his feet with cat-like precise, picking up his coffee from the counter and taking a large gulp, grinning. Most of it went down his hoodie.  
"We can't Gee." Mikey murmured softly, standing up and walking over to the counter, noting that Gerard was drinking his coffee before sighing again and starting up the coffee machine, re-making his own cup.  
"Why noooooot?" Gerard whined, jumping up and down again, more coffee spilling, and dripping off his hoodie, landing softly on the white bus carpet, staining it an awful beige-like colour, before sinking in. Staining permanently. Mikey stared at that stain for a few seconds, before his eyes returned to Gerard.  
"Because the bus is moving. We're back to New Jersey to preform tonight, remember?" Mikey explained, picking up the boiling coffee-pot by the handle and pouring some into a unicorn mug a fan gave him. He always secretly adored that mug, but every fan had to give him a unicorn, or a fuckin' toaster. He didn't even know the business with the toasters. I mean, yeah he wasn't the best cook in the world, but damn, it's not like he went on murdering sprees with the damn things. Gerard let out a groan.  
"But I need to burn off this fuckin' adrennalineee. Gimme something to dooo Mikes!" He whinged, setting his coffee mug on the table, arms flailing, almost as if Gerard wasn't controlling them, like they had a life of their own.  
"I dunno Gerard! I really don't. Why don't you go..Bother Frank, or something." Mikey left that -to them- obvious double-entree in the air, suggesting Gerard with an easy way to burn off some energy.  
"He's asleep and besides what could he do that-Oh. Oh!" Gerard trailed off, finally getting it. He squealed and jumped up. In his mind, nothing could go wrong with using Frank. Mikey sighed.  
"Great idea Mikity-Mikes." He hyped, jumping over to hug his brother, then moving to - actually- skip out of the room.  
"Just don't be too loud y'know. Ray's still asleep." Mikey murmured, unsure if his brother even heard him. Just getting a backwards thumbs-up in response, he went back to his coffee, sipping it quietly. Poor Frank..  
Gerard jumped into Frank's bunk with no hesitation, hoodie and vest already long-gone before he even got into the bunks-room. He shook Frank forcefully, trying to waking him up quickly.  
"Ugh..wha-" Frank yelped, feeling a weight on him as he shifted upwards, banging his head on the top of the bunk's low ceiling as he did, but weighted down by-  
Goddamn Gerard sitting on him. Shirtless. Ugh.  
"Yes, dude?" He whimpered, rubbing his forehead. Stupid bunks, he may be short but damn, they couldn't make these things a bit bigger?  
He looked at Gerard properly now, taking in his disheveled appearance, pupils blown wide, face written with excitement.  
"I just took something and DAMN, I have so much energy and I need to work it off-" He grinned down to Frank who just looked confused for a minute.  
"We can't go out the bus man, I mean it's moving and there's nothing else I could really help you with-" He was cut off by Gerard fully smirking at him now, eyebrows raised suggestively. Frank let out a little groan and a murmur of "Fine." before he shut the bunk's curtain and.. _helped_ Gerard.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbye.

Gerard rubbed his head as he climbed out of a foreign bunk. Oh god. What…Or who did he do now? His mind was completely cloudy and he didn’t wanna do anything except dive under his pillow and do a second and possibly third line. But that would use his entire supply and he’d have to wait until they go into New Jersey to get more. Which sucked so fucking badly.  
He slouched into the living room part of the bus again. Frank really fucking wore him out. Nearly all of Gerard’s cocaine buzz had worn off and he just wanted to sleep. It was like Frank was drugged up, not Gerard.  
Pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee, he sat down and rubbed his eyes, mumbling incoherent dealer names under his breath, trying to remember who was still dealing in New Jersey, alive.  
You see, dealing in NJ was kinda risky. Lots of competition, and if you were in the wrong place at the wrong time dealing the wrong shit for the wrong person, you got killed. Simple as. Gerard knew from personal experience when he ex-dealer Joey got gunned down right in front of him. You’d think that would of snapped him out of it, forced him to realize that drugs kill people in more way than one. But, again at the time, Gerard was high off his ass on not just cocaine, and he didn’t even realize until after he had come down and found himself clutching Joey’s bloody and stiff body, screaming for him to wake up.  
A few hours had passed since he’d woken up, and Gerard found himself twitchy, and snappy. Nearly yelling at poor Ray who didn’t know how long it would take to get to NJ. Fuck, he needed another line, and he needed it NOW.  
Shooting into the bunks, checking for the all clear, he shoved his hand under his pillow, grabbing the baggie. Repeating the same process as earlier, he got out a $20 note, and his credit card, making 4 neat little lines on his sketch book, sniffing them straight after one another like a chain smoker smoking cigarettes. He rubbed his nose, and closed his eyes. His shaking – He didn’t even notice he was- abruptly calmed as he lay down against the bunks, breathing deeply through his mouth.

**April 9th, 2005.**

It was a kind of gloomy day, Mikey thought. It should have been fun, and care-free, filled with laughter, and joy. It was his brother’s birthday. Instead, he found himself outside a church, lifting a handle carefully. Behind him was Ray, and his father, Donald.  
Though he couldn’t see them, he knew Bob, Frank and Bert McCracken were on the other side, holding a handle each.  
They lifted the semi-heavy object with balanced ease between them.  
Mikey tried his hardest to keep the tears from falling, to keep an apathetic look on his face.  
He just couldn’t. The tears weaved themselves down his cheeks, mocking him as he couldn’t wipe them away, his hands occupied with lifting holding the handle, carrying the object into the church.  
After placing the object at the very front of the altar, he took his seat in the front pews, sitting in-between his mother Donna, and father, Donald. The three of them clasped each other’s hands, knowing that one of them would break down during this, but each of them unsure of who. Ray, Frank, Bob and Bert sat on the pew beside them, all in matching black outfits, but everyone, everyone in the church, who was a male was wearing a red tie. As requested. Mikey gave a small smile as he noticed this. He wasn’t sure who arranged for everyone to wear a red tie, but he knew it was damn appreciated. Red and black were always his brother’s favourite colours.  
The ceremony began, and Mikey felt both his parents squeeze his hands in both fear, and sympathy.  
Around half-way through it, Mikey was called to the stand-thing. To give a speech. Oh man. He got up slowly, letting go sadly of his parent’s hands as he made his way up, nodding to Frank who walked down from the podium, eyes to the floor, full of sadness.

Reaching the podium, he turned slowly to face everyone as he opened his mouth and began to speak softly into the microphone.  
“I never thought I’d be using a microphone…Even when the band got interviewed, and stuff, Gerard would hold it for me and do most of the talking. Like always.” A few people chuckled sadly. “He was great, y’know? He was always there for me, growing up, then when I’d grown up. He was always looking after me, even when we fought and didn’t talk. He still cared, because he is-was great like that. I never really planned to speak out at here, of all places. So I don’t..I don’t really know what to say…Gerard was an amazing guy, he cared for everyone he met, even the dicks, and he’d been through so much sh-stuff. Like right after 9/11, he just came straight back home, and I remember just running out from the house and hugging him so tight and just not wanting to let him go, because I was so scared he’d just vanish, like all the other people that day. I was so scared when I first heard. Gerard hugged me back, and it was just. I can’t. I can’t believe now he’s really gone. And now there’s no one left to look up to, or anyone to steal my coffee in the morning. He’s really gone, and he’ll sure as hel-heck, be missed. I love you, Gee.”  
He stepped down from the podium, his eyes threatening to water, as he headed outside the door, not being able to sit through the rest of the ceremony. One glance to his mother, who instantly understood as Mikey walked out of the church, but not knowing as he continued down the pathway, and into the middle of the road in front of an oncoming car.

 

It was rumored that as people inside the church heard some Mikey’s kid-like scream, and rushed outside to find him lying on the ground, blooding pooling from various parts of his body where the car had had the most impact, and as his friend Ray, or Rick or something leaned down, his last words were:  
“I get to see Gerard again.”


End file.
